I was not the Commander. My mind was not suited for elaborate deceptions and chilling foresight. A few moments ago, I had been primed to abandon Omal forever or die. I could not find footing in the steep spiral of this new development.
Jeru and the other guard remained. “The Commander would like you to wait for his return at a private location.”
I balked. “What?” Were they responding to some invisible signal he issued? Had he planned this?
“I have to see Fairel,” I said, the words coming from a faraway place. “Rory cannot treat her alone.”
“This is not a request,” Jeru said. “The people do not need another spectacle.”
“You’re right.” I giggled. Hysteria closed tighter and tighter in my chest, crystallizing into shards under my breastbone. “They have seen more than enough.”
The room they thrust me into straddled Mahair’s border, pungent from the odor of nearby livestock. The door slammed shut, leaving me alone with my whipping panic.
“No, no, no,” I repeated, pacing the length of the room. The Nizahl Heir could not name me Champion, not after he saw my magic. He knew. He had the evidence he sought against me. The Commander would never knowingly assign the honor of Champion to a Jasadi. It must have been a tactic to delay Felix. Hunting me had taken more than two whole days’ worth of effort—it seemed fair he would want to kill me himself.
I needed to get out of here. Where in the tomb-damned earth had they taken me? Dozens of maps covered the walls of the room, names and dates scrawled on their surfaces by the same hand. A single straight-backed chair was tucked near a table barely wide enough to support a cup of tea. A glass cabinet stretched along the left wall.
I yanked at the cabinet’s handles. The locks held fast. Behind the glass sat replicas of the Awaleen’s most famed possessions, some of which I recognized, some I was glad not to. The tree branch Dania swung into the heart of a new mother. An axe forged to resemble Dania’s, rusted with blood. The sight of a ragged doll hewn from animal hide repulsed me a step backward. The doll leaned at a forward angle, childlike eyes drawn onto its rigid flesh. I didn’t remember the doll in any of the Awaleen’s stories.
I studied the cracked lines of its skin and pursed my lips, distracted by a vague recollection from Hanim’s lessons. The doll wore Orban’s flag from the ancient Battle of Zinish. Lukub had won by using magic, which Nizahl had expressly forbidden in times of war. The magic Lukub’s captain drew upon to defeat the Orbanians during the Battle of Zinish was too awful to recall, an evil that consumed the land like a mighty pestilence. Some of the Orbanian soldiers had been torn apart, their bodies warped and condensed into—
—into small, humanlike dolls.
I tore my gaze away, pressing two fingers to my lips to fight a surge of bile. No wonder the battle ended the way it did. Nizahl, who rarely muddied their boots in territorial feuding, had marched through Lukub. Only the clever and quick politics of the then-Sultana kept Nizahl from tearing Lukub apart. The Battle of Zinish had led to a peace accord between Nizahl and Lukub. One each subsequent Supreme and Sultana upheld.
Of course, the Battle of Zinish took place when magic was forbidden only as a weapon of war. Peace was an option for them. Peace, which my magic had permanently forsaken by hurling a dagger at the Omal Heir.
If I could repeat this evening, I would never leave Rory’s side. We would bundle up whatever we had not sold at the booth and go back to the shop. Maybe we could have heated enough water for two mint teas in the back room and laughed at the children tripping over one another in the street.
I would not be in this room of war relics, standing in the ashes of my second life.
Escape was the only option. Even if Arin condescended to listen to an explanation, his mercy would not extend beyond staying my execution until after a trial.
I paced the room. If Arin maintained his pattern of dismissing his guards, he would be the only obstacle between me and freedom. His guards would patrol the perimeter, and even if they spotted me running, they would not give chase. They had pledged to protect their Commander, and they would go straight to him. Once they realized I’d slain him, well, I would need to run very far and very fast indeed.
I glanced down at my torn and bloodstained clothing. Sefa still had my cloak. The dagger I kept in my boot had found a new home in Felix’s leg. I would vanish without taking so much as a sesame-seed candy with me.
Tears pricked my eyes. I felt utterly, achingly alone.
I pulled at the handles of the cabinets again. I hurled my body against the glass, but the thick surface didn’t bend. If the cabinet could withstand the passing centuries, my paltry efforts would not break it.